Page 41 of Rush the Edge
Kane’s jaw wiggles back and forth, but he must have much more respect for this referee, because he doesn’t seem as lethal as before.
Not that he has any right to act all protective over me.
“I can take it from here, Jeff.”
My mouth starts moving before my brain can catch up. “I think Jeff’s got it.”
Honestly, out of the three men in my vicinity, I think I trust Jeff the most.
Kane’s hand slips around my waist, and I’m being dragged toward my dressing room. He shoves us both through the door and slams it shut.
As soon as he lets go of me, I glare at him. “What the hell is wrong with you, Kane?”
Only, he doesn’t answer, because with the work that Jeff did on my zipper, my costume now falls to my hips, revealing much more of my body to Kane than I anticipated.
Sixteen
KANE
Don’t react.
It’s just a pair of tits.
Nice tits.Not overly big, but at least a handful each.
Just like the rest of her, they’ve changed over the years—right along with her fiery attitude that I’d never had the pleasure of being on the other end of until recently.
Her hot glare is a form of flirting, if you ask me.
“Turn,” I demand.
The little scowl she’s trying to intimidate me with deepens when I don’t give her the time or space to do as I ask. My palms find their way to her curved waist, and I spin her.
“What is your problem?” She peers over her shoulder at me, and even the slanting of her cheek is perfect.
“You,” I answer with full transparency. “You’re my problem.”
“How so?” she shouts, frustration seeping out of her.
She tries to turn back around to face me, but I don’t let her.
No.
I grip her waist again, and this time, I push her up against the door lightly and trap her there. Her gasp falls over her shoulder and down to my hand holding her hostage. “Are you trying to intimidate me?”
If I am, it’s not working.
I have her pinned against the door with her back to me because I don’t want to look into her eyes. They make me feel things I don’t want to feel when it comes to her.
Like the protectiveness that swept through me when I saw Jeff and Wes touching her.
Or the raging jealousy that pulsed when Lars made a pass at her.
Or the fact that she’s taking up space in my head while I’m on the ice simply because I know she may be watching me.
The pressure of being the best reaches new heights with her in my vicinity, and it’s already so heavy that I can hardly unbury myself by the end of a game.
I finally answer her question with a clipped,“No.”
